


the collective

by deplore



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Gen, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deplore/pseuds/deplore
Summary: Collection of shorter Persona 5 fics/drabbles.Sophistry: Goro reads his Camus and his Kierkegaard, his Lacan and – as stereotypical as it might be – he reads his Freud.Needlepoint: Haru restrains herself from frowning, but Akira can see her eyebrows crease inward, and he knows what she wants to ask:why ask me, and not one of the others?Bloom: Goro has never taken care of anything in his life besides himself, but he's sure he could nurture the flowers until they finally blossom in shades of crimson and red.Friction: The fierce, unyielding way that Akira stares forward makes Goro suddenly realize: Akira might be the one who's on his knees, but he's also the one in perfect control. (R18 for sexual content)Eclipse: “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want the moon to see,” Akira says, pointing up at the night sky above.Nightlife: “But do you know what I think is the saddest state of all?” Goro asks, as the two of them stare out at the neon-lit streets of Shinjuku at night.





	1. 『SOPHISTRY』

**Author's Note:**

> Individual chapters will be tagged with specific content warnings where applicable.

Goro reads his Camus and his Kierkegaard, his Lacan and – as stereotypical as it might be – he reads his Freud. He reads Foucault and Hegel and of course he reads Jung, because how could he not, given that he's seen his other self? He lets Durkheim tell him about anomie and Marx inform him of his false consciousness, so that he can impress people with how absolutely fucking cultured he is because he knows a few things that some dead Europeans said a century ago. Personally, he couldn't care less whether absurdism is more valid than existentialism or what an ancient Greek play has to say about the inner drives of human beings. It's all about cultivating that image, carefully crafting his atmosphere, to control how others perceive him.

So when Akira comes home one night and pauses on his way to squints at the book Goro's brought to Leblanc to read over a cup of coffee and asks, “You're reading Nietzsche?” – naturally, Goro prepares to launch into a diatribe about amor fati and ressentiment, all while pointedly avoiding Übermensch (because that would be such a boring, trite choice for discussing Nietzsche).

But then Akira smirks and readjusts the way the straps of his bag lie on his shoulder. “No offense to your taste,” Akira says, “but I think he's kind of pretentious, don't you?”

It's not what Goro was expecting. Surprised, he lets out a laugh, and is even more shocked to realize he's actually amused. “Honestly, I can't disagree,” Goro replies. “I mean, when one of your famous lines is declaring that God is dead…”

“Still, he's worth reading,” Akira concludes, “pretense and all.”

“He knows how to write,” Goro agrees.

Akira's expression softens into something more like a proper smile. “And he wrote plenty that's worth thinking about. You could come by again when you're done reading it,” he suggests. “I'll make some coffee, and we can talk about which parts are the most overblown.”

“Maybe I will,” Goro says, after a pause. “If I have anything interesting to say about it.”

“It's up to you,” Akira replies. “I'll leave you to your reading for now, then… good night.”

Goro thinks he might actually enjoy that – talking to Akira about the world, about society, about what it is to be human (or, for that matter, what makes a person inhuman). And that's precisely how he knows that he'll never finish the book: so he can pretend the right chance never came, and ignore the fact that he wouldn't know what to do with such a strange and simple happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Akechi first shows up, he references Hegel's dialectic, and I knew from that I would grudgingly come to like him because his sense of pretense aligns with mine. I wasn't wrong, at least??


	2. 『NEEDLEPOINT』

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, of course I'll come with you, but…” Haru trails off. Akira watches as she bites the inside of her bottom lip – she restrains herself from frowning, but he can see her eyebrows crease inward, and he knows what she wants to ask: _why ask me, and not one of the others?_

“Well, of course I'll come with you, but…” Haru trails off. Akira watches as she bites the inside of her bottom lip – she restrains herself from frowning, but he can see her eyebrows crease inward, and he knows what she wants to ask: _why ask me, and not one of the others_?

Akira tilts his head forward slightly as he rubs the back of his neck and keeps it angled there, so that the two of them can comfortably look each other in the eye. “It has to be you,” he says. “Because you'll make of it exactly what it is, and not… something more than it needs to be.”

Haru looks confused, but Akira didn't really expect her to understand with such a vague explanation anyway – but that as well just reaffirms his instinctive sense that she was the only one he could ask for a favor like this. “That does make me happy to hear, although I don't quite understand what you mean,” she finally replies.

“I just don't want anybody to jump to any wild conclusions,” Akira answers, “when the truth is that – well, really, I just don't like getting shots. I never have.”

There's a spark in Haru's eyes that tells him the pieces have slid into place for her. “I see,” she says, and Akira can tell from the way that she parts her lips that she wants to say more. But in the end, she simply clasps her hands over her stomach and adds, “I've never really liked them either, to be honest. You'll come with me when I have to get my next round too, I hope?”

From that, Akira knows she understands everything that's being left deliberately unsaid, that she's processed the situation and concluded that he doesn't want to make metaphors out of unpleasant memories – that in this case, it's kinder to turn a blind eye and simply let the rose be a rose.

“Of course I will,” he replies, in an echo of her own answer to him, before he smiles briefly at her. “Thanks, Haru. For being so accommodating.”

She smiles back warmly, and lets that be that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all the P5 girls so not to start anything but haru ismy bestgirl


	3. 『BLOOM』

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro has never taken care of anything in his life besides himself, but he's sure he could nurture these flowers until they finally bloom in shades of crimson and red, then wake Akira up so that he can see what a perfect garden his existence has become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning for imagined body horror (flower gore)**.

Goro notices Akira in Shibuya's underground mall one afternoon, working at the little flower shop tucked in the back of those winding corridors. He sees Akira, but Akira doesn't see him – he's too busy minding the plants with calm deliberation, plucking off dying leaves and rearranging the flowers so that the nicest ones are placed to catch the eyes of any passersby.

And watching him, seeing how natural he looks surrounded with flowers on all sides, Goro can't help but think that he wants to put Akira to sleep and use his body as a seedbed – he could plant his favorite flowers into Akira's ribcage to feast on his flesh and blood: camellias, peonies, carnations, anything that would look lovely in his colors. Goro has never taken care of anything in his life besides himself, but he's sure he could nurture them until they finally bloom in shades of crimson and red, then wake Akira up so that he can see what a perfect garden his existence has become.

What kind of expression would make when he sees the bouquet Goro made of him, for him? If it were anybody else, Goro is sure they'd scream in horror, but him – but him! What if he smiled and said, “thank you”? What if he plucked a flower from his own body and said, “it's beautiful”?

(Well, then – Goro thinks he might fall in love enough to kill Akira right then and there, fast and painless, instead of letting the flowers draw things out into a slow and wretched end.)

Goro doesn't call out as he walks by and passes through wordlessly, unnoticed. It's better that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower gore is my favorite aesthetic. I watched Flip Flappers recently, so the idea of dying by flower infestation or bursting into petals has especially been on my mind...
> 
> In Japanese flower language:  
> Camellia (red): in love, perishing with grace  
> Carnation: fascination, distinction, love  
> Peony: bravery. However, I actually picked this flower because (1) I like peonies (wink) and (2) I find it interesting Eastern flower languages ascribe it a generally positive meaning, yet in Western flower language, it can imply shame.


	4. 『FRICTION』

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fierce, unyielding way that Akira stares forward makes Goro suddenly realize: Akira might be the one who's on his knees, but he's also the one in perfect control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Explicit sexual content **in this chapter.****

 

From the moment that Akira takes Goro into his mouth, Goro knows that he’s made a serious miscalculation. The feeling of Akira’s lips around the head of his dick is markedly different from his own hands, of course – it's not something he does often, but Goro's touched himself before, mostly because it seemed like something normal for a teenager to take interest in. And it had felt good, but it had taken too long and seemed almost systematic, a simple matter of applying the appropriate amount of pressure for a sufficient period of time: less erotic, more methodical.

Having Akira lavish attention on Goro's cock with his tongue, though, is almost unabashedly sensual. Every single movement he makes is full of deliberate intention to tease, Goro thinks, like the careful pause Akira takes to tuck a stray lock of hair out of his face before opening his mouth again. It's almost like Akira's performing how much he enjoys doing something as lustful as sucking dick and Goro wants to absolutely denigrate him for it, to turn his chin up and sneer because he'd _never_ service another person as much as Akira's servicing him now –

But he can't, because more than anything else, it's the visual of having Akira on his knees, head in between Goro’s thighs and eyes half-lidded as he stares up at Goro through his eyelashes that does something strange to Goro’s state of mind, leaving him hazy-minded and almost childishly giddy. But how could he not feel that way, when he has somebody who's as stoically proud as Akira is kneeling in front of him?

Goro reaches down, not really thinking before he's placed his hands on either side of Akira's face, less affectionate and more demanding. The warm softness of Akira's mouth is amazing, but he has a sense that it would feel even better if he gripped a little harder, so that Akira couldn't move away – and then abandon his precious cover of self-control, that personal discipline that he's so proud of himself for cultivating – and thrust into Akira's mouth again and again –

Akira pulls away. For a few seconds, his expression is inscrutable, but then he shows Goro a smile with just a bit of tooth to it before he finally says, “It seems almost like you want to hold me down and do what you like, but you should know… I'd be rather upset if you did that.”

His words might be mild, but that fierce, unyielding way that Akira stares forward makes Goro suddenly realize: Akira might be the one who's on his knees, but he's also the one in perfect control – not only of himself, but of how much he's willing to give. Akira's the one who can remain calm and collected as he laps his tongue over the tip of Goro's dick, wrapping his fingers around the base and taking Goro deeper and deeper into his mouth – Goro's the one who's being swallowed up, Goro's the one who's being overwhelmed.

And how wretched it is, to be so easily swayed by pleasure,

_it feels good, it feels good it feels good it feels_ –

that the mind can be so distracted by the body;

– _like something's coming undone inside_

he doesn't want to be made a slave to his desire.

The muscles in his thighs tense up; Goro inhales sharply and _god_ , he curls his toes and arches his back as the pleasure pooling in his body threatens to overflow. He wants to come down Akira's throat and make a mess out of Akira, the same way that Akira's making a mess of him – but he already knows it's not going to happen.

Akira rolls his lips off of Goro and looks up; his eyes don't even allow Goro the possibility of denying him anything. “Now, come for me,” Akira says.

So Goro does – and for a few blissful moments, as climax washes over him like a crashing wave, he can't think of any thoughts at all, purely engulfed by sensation, distilled down to the primal elements of his being. When he starts floating back into his conscious mind, he finds Akira with his arms perched on top of Goro’s thighs, resting his chin on his clasped hands and smiling slyly at Goro.

“So, how was it?” Akira asks, though Goro’s sure that Akira already knows it felt so damn good to relinquish control, to cry out without caring if he’s heard – he shouldn’t have let Akira do that to him, Goro thinks. He should have stayed ignorant to how much lighter it is when he doesn’t have to put up so many layers to protect himself.

Even still, when Goro smiles back, the mask has already slid back on, because old habits die hard and Goro would rather carry the cross he’s most familiar with. “You’re impressive in more things than I ever expected,” he says, all empty words which he knows doesn’t answer the real question that Akira’s asking: _did you like it_? “Do you want me to return the favor?”

Akira stands up, pulling himself to his full height before slouching in. “I got to see something that made the effort worthwhile, so let's call it even,” he replies.

“I’m not sure what you mean by that, but if you’re fine with it,” Goro says.

And as a final mercy for the night, Akira lets him get away with the lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've broken a dry spell of nearly a year without writing smut fic with this. Not sure if I'm proud or ashamed, but a year has passed and I still don't know how to finish PWP snippets...
> 
> On a different note, not to jinx myself, but I may(?!) open up writing commissions in the near future. Doing some test runs now, so if they go well, I will advertise publicly :>


	5. Eclipse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expanded ficlet from [this scribble](https://twitter.com/lustercandies/status/910642520933257216) I did at work.

“Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want the moon to see,” Akira says, pointing up at the night sky above as they walk through the backstreets of Yongen-jaya together. Their pace is slow and their path is meandering to draw things out longer, because when they make it to the subway station, there’ll be no excuses left for them to delay parting ways.

Or at least, that’s Goro’s reason for dawdling – he’s the one leading half a step ahead, and Akira doesn’t seem too fussed to change that. “So then I can do anything, as the moon can’t see,” Goro replies.

“Do you know that for sure?” Akira asks. “There could be something there, you know, on the dark side of the moon. Something unobserved.”

“There’s a limit to how whimsical even you can be,” Goro tells him. He’s more concerned about other people catching sight of him when he doesn’t want to be seen, but Goro won’t admit that.

“You’re right,” Akira concedes. “I’m just playing with you.”

The way he phrases that is rather ominous, Goro thinks, because for Akira to say that he’s playing with Goro is both subtly and vastly different than to say that Akira’s being playful. _To play_ is an action; even more than that, _to play with_ is an action conferred onto somebody else, whether or not the person on the other end is a willing recipient. A child, innocently, can be playful – a predator can play with its prey before feeding on it. The precise choice of words feels heavy with connotation and Goro isn’t sure how far he should read into it.

Goro can’t help but feel as if there’s somebody watching them from behind, even as he tries not to entertain Akira’s flight of fancy. There’s nothing but rocks on the dark side of the moon, he knows, even if he hasn’t observed that with his own two eyes. And there’s nothing dark lurking in Akira’s shadow either literal or metaphorical – Goro has to be certain of that, even if he can’t prove it.

“Forgive me, then, if I don’t intend to play along,” Goro replies after a pause to glance around and make sure they’re the only ones around. And then he reaches out to grab Akira’s wrist and hold him still before leaning in to press a brief kiss to Akira’s cheek before letting go, all in one smooth movement.

There’s a saccharine flavor to being contrary that not even Goro can resist entirely; he tastes it when he licks his lips. _So there – did you think that I’d be so easily knocked off balance? I can outmatch your pace. You’re no challenge for me_ , he wants to gloat, but he carefully swallows those thoughts along with the sweetness on his tongue before he looks up.

Akira smiles when they meet eyes. “I would never hold that against you,” he says.

And Goro has to wonder: was this series of events exactly what Akira wanted from him all along?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (fly me to the moon intensifies)
> 
> Personally, I feel like Akechi's the type to think that Akira is ComplicatedTM even when Akira's being straightforward and misattributes Akira's weirdness to complexity. Probably because my impression of him is, "he creates most of his own problems" (but that's what makes him relatable...haha...)


	6. 『NIGHTLIFE』

“But do you know what I think is the saddest state of all?” Goro asks, as the two of them stare out at the neon-lit streets of Shinjuku at night from the narrow storefront they’re using as shelter from the sudden drizzle that neither of them were prepared for.

The question comes as a non-sequitur, born from nothing despite the peculiar way that Goro phrases it, as if Akira had prompted the question out of him. “Enlighten me,” Akira replies.

“It’s when you have no reason to live for, nor do you have a cause that you could die for,” Goro says, voice calm and with a soothing lilt to the tone he takes – but he doesn’t look Akira in the face as he gives his answer. “Because you’re not really alive anymore. You exist, but you’re not _alive_ in the ways that really matter. There’s no meaning to it.”

Signs flicker through the raindrops; people walk and splash into the puddles, they laugh and stumble in the downpour, so that the emotions around them forms a spectrum from happiness to misery. The air is frenetic in a vaguely uncomfortable way, because in a place like this, things have to move, _people_ have to move. Staying in one place is just asking for it – and nobody is sure what “it” is, but everybody can feel it. The street they’ve stopped on is somewhere in between Shinjuku’s main streets and its red light district, which is precisely the sort of threshold in which fateful things tend to happen: beginnings begin, endings end, hearts break and mend, bodies merge and part from each other. The ward becomes wonderland and shitshow all at once, bright lights and dark alleys – shadows are everywhere, thick and drunk on the atmosphere, melding together into the metaphorical shape of low society, not unlike the Shadows that Akira used to fight.

But Goro stays in one spot, alarmingly still, indifferent both to the rain and the people surrounding them. How lovely it is, Akira thinks, to be so unmoved. And how dangerous he is, to disregard instinct so thoroughly. It’s because he remains in place that Akira has a sense that he could self-destruct at any time, but that’s not the reason he wants to stay by Goro’s side instead of seeking shelter. If he couldn’t leave Goro alone just because he felt like Goro might go off somewhere on his own and never come back, then that would be simple patronization.

It’s just that Goro Akechi looks so beautifully juxtaposed against Shinjuku’s nightlife, put together into one full existence even as there’s a sense that his mind is in pieces that no longer fit quite right. Besides, Akira’s just as aimless as Goro is, now that he’s seen his story through, without anything in particular to slowly advance towards – but they aren’t birds of a feather flocking together, Akira thinks, so much as there’s a resonance between their souls that’s impossible to ignore.

“Are you talking about yourself?” Akira asks. “Or maybe you mean me.”

Goro turns to look at Akira, but that only throws his face into the shadows. The neon signboards glint off of his eyes with an unnatural sheen, but the artifice suits him somewhat. “Perhaps I mean the world,” Goro says. “It’s fine to think that everybody is a little hopeless at some point, isn’t it?”

“It’s what I’d like to think, at least,” Akira replies, and then he laughs for the first time all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I feel like I normally write from Akechi's POV, I thought it'd be nice to change it up a bit haha. This is kind of a remix of the last drabble, in that sense.

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of miss the LJ fic days for throwing up a bunch of little fics in one post under individual LJ-cuts so that individual content could be tagged, but only in my dreams will Dreamwidth become the (non-rp?) fandom hub and I can use my DW for little fics like this :T


End file.
